Have you ever been to a trade show? I’m
sure you have. I go to at least one every year, but I’ll ask you:
Does your trade show have a working Ferris Wheel on the show floor?
Are there people riding it? Can you survive for the entire week
solely on the free food and candy given out by the vendors? Do you
get to play the latest video games that haven’t been released to
the public? Have you been sold products by people that make used car
salesmen seem like rank amateurs? Are your scantily clad booth models
unusually knowledgeable about epoxy flooring and personnel
management? If you answered yes to all my questions, then you
recently spent a week out in Florida with me on the business trip of
a lifetime.
I’m in the amusement park industry, which means I go to a very special trade show each year. It’s
called IAAPA. That’s the International Association of Amusement
Parks and Attractions. I call it “The Show,” like a minor leaguer
that’s headed to the majors. My first one was about 5 years ago in
Las Vegas. It can’t hold a candle to the Orlando setup. At the
Orange County Convention center, there are 950,282 square feet inside
with a 40 foot high ceiling and an additional 50,000 square feet
outside. They cleared a million just to show off, I expect. If it’s
happening or going to happen in the industry, it happened in Orange
County, Florida on the second week of November.
Well, there’s as much story in my
first two hours of travel to fill an article, so we’ll be going day
by day and tale by tale, otherwise this wouldn’t be terribly
interesting, would it?
Day 1: Travel
Mornings are retched, bothersome
things. I’m not a fan. To catch a flight at 7am you have to get up
at 3:30am. That turns your standard morning into something to truly
loathe. I slither out of bed at the appropriate time, ooze into the
bathroom, hop into the shower, and slowly think about how warm the
water is and how soothing morning rituals can be. I, rightly, turn
the shower head to cold and properly wake up lest I fall asleep under
the delightful pummeling my shower massager delivers. (Are you writing me erotica? -Ed) Once out, I
realize the full weight of the head cold that’s been building for
the last few days. Thank you darling, that’ll be two DayQuil pills
and I’ll call you in the afternoon. I get dressed, kiss the
girlfriend goodbye (no longer in fear of her pestilence as I’d
already received it), kiss the cat, hand her a handful of treats (the
cat, not the girlfriend), walk downstairs, grab my bags and hat, and
walk out the door.
Thus our adventure begins. I gave
myself a little extra time in the morning, since there are a few
light provisions that I have yet to pick up, namely toothpaste.
Nobody wants to have extensive business conversations with a man
plagued by halitosis. It’s just not done. I step into the 24 hour
Safeway and business is just as hopping as you would expect. I
scramble to the right isle, grab a TSA appropriate tube of dental
cleanser and think I’m on my way but no… No checker. Where are
they? There’s two men stocking canned goods, another polishing
apples, I can vaguely hear “The Girl From Ipanema” being played
in the background on an alto sax but nobody here is willing to sell
me this vastly overpriced miniature toothpaste tube? I take my
masculinity in hand (not literally) and decide to go and ask
directions. Mr. Apple Polisher berates me for not asking (didn’t I
just?) and walks to the check stand. He grabs
the microphone of check stand #3 and says; “Check to 1 please,
check to 1” then walks back to his apples. I'm left holding both my masculinity and my toothpaste.
Now, I’m a little annoyed and a small
amount starving. I can feel the anger burning within me just waiting
to be meted out on my next transgressor, like the Emperor’s Force
Lightning from Return of the Jedi, but I hold it in. Also, I grab a
pack of peanut butter cups because well, hunger and such. One of the
men stocking cans turns out to be a woman. Must have been the
haircut, my mistake. I silently apologize to nobody in particular and
the transaction begins. She grabs my two items, smiles and shoves
them towards the laser to get scanned. As she does this we both
suddenly notice that there’s a little open space between the
conveyer and our high tech friend. I’ve never had to tell anybody
to mind the gap while traveling, primarily because I really don’t
care if people trip or fall to a horrible death, I actually find it
sort of funny. Well, my candy breakfast didn’t mind the gap and
fell into the dark abyss beneath the check stand. Thank you, divine
spirit. I’ll try to be nicer to people in the future. She offered
to find a replacement but I was nearing my coworker’s pickup time
and am a terribly punctual person. I paid $1.42 for the toothpaste,
the story you’re reading, and a tid-bit of Karma.
I drive towards our pre-arranged meeting place, a coffee shop that will be open for business in twenty
minutes. I pick up my coworker and leave for the airport. What, you
thought we’d actually be getting coffee? We’ve no time for that.
Bag check was the usual mess. There’s
a woman pointing everybody towards the touch screens while we all
bunch up at the people behind the counter. There’s an old man
shuffling back and forth at a speed easily outpaced by a drunken
snail. It’s the slowest game of Pong I’d ever seen.
“Where do I go, again?” “Right
over here, sir.” “What do I do?” “Just touch the screen.”
“Then what do I do?” “They’ll call your name.” “But I’ve
been here for ten minutes.” “Yes sir, just follow the menu on the
screen.” “I don’t think this one is working.”
I’m stopping there. This went on for
a while, and I didn’t see the whole thing since I actually followed the
instructions, my name was called, and I checked my bag.
We get to the security line, and I prep
myself for new travel tradition of surrendering your civil rights. I
keep quiet to prevent from being hauled of as an instigator, First
Amendment. There’s the video that tells you what you can’t bring:
Fireworks, Knitting Needles, Bottled Water, Firearms. There goes the
Second. I remove my shoes and prep for the X-ray, Fourth Amendment.
Do I have anything illegal? Did I leave my bags in the possession of
another? Fifth Amendment. Perhaps they’d like me to house some
Marines and we could go for a clean sweep of the first five? Knock
the others out before lunch, maybe?
I get the all clear which means no
prostate exam. I’m thankful because I was hoping to hold out on
that till I was at least 40. As I step out one of the guards leans
over and grabs my left calf. I look at him, a little confused he
gives me a sort of ‘Carry on’ look and I go gather my things. Do
I look like a terrorist?
I tend to get a little airsick nowadays
but, otherwise, the flights went well. We had Brunch in Denver and
headed to our final destination after a short layover.
After a mere thirteen hours from start
to finish, we arrive in beautiful Orlando, Florida. It was a roasting
58 degrees and with a humidity of only 95%. You could hardly feel the
chill… I’ll stop with the sarcasm for now.
Now, when your boss calls and asks you
what your plans are, at this point you think: Collapse? He wanted to
have a nice dinner and by nice, he means expensive. Not that that was
his initial plan but that’s just how things seem to turn out. And
when somebody says pricey, this foodie jumps. We ended up at the
Capital Grill, known for steaks as well as other delicious things.
I’ll give you a quick breakdown: Me: Seared Sushi Grade Ahi Tuna
over Gingered Rice with delightful dipping sauces, Compatriot:
Gorgonzola dabbed over Medium Well Filet Mignon, Boss Man:
Porterhouse served perfectly rare. Our sides were the Brussel Sprouts
with Pork Belly (My recipe is actually better, I’ll give it to you
sometime) and some rather delightful Lobster Mac and Cheese. This is
a good way to end a day. Belly full and body tired, I went to bed
happy.
Next time, we'll talk about the actual convention.
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